


Can't Stop Wishing That I Never Gave You Anything

by HeadStrongHeadLights



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nobody's really that innocent, Past Relationship(s), alternative universe- Musicians, communicating through song lyrics because that's how you talk to people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadStrongHeadLights/pseuds/HeadStrongHeadLights
Summary: It was for the best that things ended between them. Gabe needed to focus on his career and Jack... Jack just needed to go. They just weren't good for each other anymore. So why does Jack's new song sound so much like an apology? And why does Gabe want to accept it so badly?(Aka these two idiots need to learn to talk shit out instead of letting it fester until it inevitably blows up in their faces.)





	1. Ahead of Myself

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know why I insist on doing this to myself, but here I am, with yet another WIP. To be honest, I don't know Overwatch all that well, this is just me giving it my best shot. Some of the characters might be a _little_ OOC but I am going to do my best to keep it to a minimum. 
> 
> Not all ships are tagged, because I'm not going to be that asshole that misleads you into a reading a fic about a pair that's more of a foot note than a main feature. But each chapter will include the ships in the notes. More characters are going to pop up later. All songs will be linked at the end. I'm open to suggestions. 
> 
> No major warnings for this chapter. Unbetaed. Any glaring mistakes just let me know.
> 
> Title from "100 Letters" by Halsey

LA never used to feel this cold to him. Gabe burrowed deeper into his hoodie, well aware that it was more psychosomatic than anything else, instead of demanding his Uber driver to turn up the heat. He tried to distract himself by going through his Instagram, smiling to himself as he looked at the “artistic edginess with just a hint of holy than thou” that his page had. Sombra might’ve been a bitch, but it wasn’t like she was wrong. 

Traffic was always terrible here, even more so when it was rush hour. Gabe had to admit to himself that he did not miss this. For as much as he missed his home state, he really fucking didn’t miss the traffic. 

“Is it alright if I turn the radio on?” his driver asked, a pretty young thing who almost reminded him of his ex. If, ya know, his ex was a girl. He caught her eye in the review mirror and shrugged. 

“I don’t care. Just, keep it down please,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it. It was his own goddamn fault for not booking a later flight. 

The radio flipped on and the DJ’s voice came through, far too happy for Gabe’s liking. As per his request, she turned it down to just low enough that he could barely hear it. Traffic still moved at a near standstill. Gabe tried to not lose his patience. At this rate, he could fucking _walk_ to his hotel. 

Scrolling through any of his social medias held no interest to him. He would open an app just to close it again five minutes later, all of his feeds as dead as a graveyard. Eventually he gives up, tuning in to the pop song on the radio. He cringes at the overproduced bubblegum pop beat and the lyrics are mediocre at best. Once again, he curses himself for leaving his headphones on the plane. And for leaving his backups at his apartment.

When it ends, Gabe damn near cries tears of joy. He catches the pout on his driver’s face, not even surprised that she was into it. Gabe tries to not hold it against her. She’s young, she has time to learn what good music is. Honestly, he would be shocked if she knew that he was a famous musician himself. But he’s enjoying being incognito for the moment, so he lets that thought go. 

The strumming of a guitar pulls him out of his musings. When the guy starts singing, Gabe sits up. He leans forward, trying to get a better listen, because _goddamn_ that voice is familiar. His driver catches his eye in the mirror and turns it up, just enough that Gabe can hear his voice clearly. 

His breath catches. Holy fuck. Is that…?

_Thought I was ready, ready for someone else,_  
_But every time I get ahead of myself,  
_ _Every time I get ahead of myself._

Holy fuck. It is him. It’s been years since Gabe’s heard his voice. To hear him on the radio, it brings up bittersweet memories of sitting on the shitty beer-stained couch with him for hours, teaching him how to actually play the guitar. Hearing him sing with a youthful passion that you have to be born with. A talent that can’t be taught. 

His eyes are burning and he can’t even blame it on the LA smog. God, it’s been so long. 

“Uh, are you okay mister? I can turn it off if it’s bothering you,” the girl says, looking concerned. Gabe waves her off, pressing his fingers to his eyes. He takes the moment to compose himself before answering her. 

“No, no, it’s okay. It just caught me off guard, that’s all. Reminded me of someone I used to know,” he tells her. The words taste like a lie, but he’s not exactly wrong. He can still remember his smile in blinding clarity. His golden boy. Before everything went to shit. He can’t tell her that he knows the singer, that it went beyond someone he once knew. Some secrets were meant to just stay that, secrets. Didn’t need any gossip rags getting a hold of that bullshit. 

She seems to take his word for it, though the concern doesn’t leave her eyes. She turns back to the road and Gabe continues to listen to the song. He can’t deny it, it fits his voice perfectly. It’s stupid to get mad about it, but it pisses him off anyways. 

_Know that I was first to say, “I love you, babe”,_  
_Moved my things to your apartment down on 2nd Street._  
_I thought I’d cleaned the slate,  
_ _But I guess I didn’t clean it all away._

Gabe can’t really help but wonder if the song was written about him. Normally, he wouldn’t be so self-centered to think that, but the line about the apartment made him question it. Despite whatever Sombra and Jesse thought about him, he really didn’t think that the world revolved around him. He brushed it off though. They both made their choice. Unfortunately, their choice just didn’t include the other.

At least, that’s what Gabe keeps telling himself. It was easier to leave than it was to be the one left behind. 

The song ends and the DJ comes back on, too fucking cheerful for the amount of traffic that they were suffering through. Too cheerful for the fresh heartbreak that Gabe was feeling. 

“And that was ‘Ahead of Myself’, brand new single from new comer Jack Morrison,” the DJ stated, sounding like he was in awe of the man. Gabe snorted. If only he met the bastard.

It took another half hour to finally get to the hotel, somewhere in the heart of LA. Gabe made sure to tip the girl generously before getting out and collecting his bags. Of course, the paparazzi were waiting for him, which annoyed him to no end but he wasn’t surprised. He had managed to avoid them so far, it was inevitable that his luck would run out. 

Despite the late hour, and the fact that there was no sun, Gabe made sure that his sunglasses were securely on before heading into the building, door opened by the door guy. He tilted his head in thanks as he wandered in, making sure to not linger too long.

He could still hear and see the cameras flashing and he grimaced, wondering if any of them came out good. To be honest, he’s not entirely sure he cared or not, but he was kind of tired of being painted as a heartless bastard, even if he was one on occasion. Like 90% of the time.

Gabe got checked in and headed up to his room, breathing out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him. He threw his bags on the ground and set his guitar case gently on the bed before flopping on to it also. He sighed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, wishing that he could just forget ever hearing his voice again. 

He was doing so well to forget that he was ever in love with that motherfucker. But no. Of course the song had to get stuck in his head. 

No, he’s not going to look it up. He’s not going to listen to it again. 

Which 100% explains why he’s pulled it up on Spotify and is listening to it again. Sometimes, he really has to wonder where his willpower went. Oh yeah, down the fucking bottle with the rest of his dignity. At least his face isn’t on the album cover. Thank God for the little things. 

Suddenly, his phone rings and he drops it on his face. “Fuck me,” he mutters as he looks to see who’s calling. “What do you want McCree?” he growls as he answers. 

The laugh on the other end of the line is too bright for Gabe’s taste. “Hello to you too, sunshine. I was just calling to see if you made it to your hotel alright.” Despite the light tone Jesse’s voice carries, Gabe can hear the underlying current of worry and he wants to slap himself for forgetting to call him when he landed like he promised. 

“Yeah, I made it to the hotel. Fucking paparazzi found out that I’m here though, so I had to deal with that,” Gabe replies, sitting up. He pushes the beanie off his head, shaking out his curls. They’re just reaching the point of too damn long that Gabe usually tries to avoid. He pulls it back into a loose bun as Jesse hums on the other end of the line. 

“That’s lame. I reckon that they’ll move on soon enough,” Jesse responds, the sounds of cabinets being opened and closed adding background noise. 

“Are you eating all my food, brat?” Gabe asks, more so to keep the conversation going than out of any real annoyance. Despite the initial irritation, it is good to hear his voice. 

Jesse just laughs, the sound bringing a smile to the older man’s face. “It’s just goin’ ta go bad if I don’t. Think of it as me doing you a favor so that you don’t waste food. We all know how much you hate wasting food,” Jesse says. Gabe rolls his eyes fondly, aware that the kid can’t see him. 

“Whatever kid, just replace it before I come home,” Gabe tells him. He stands up and begins wandering around his temporary residency. It kind of sucked that Jesse couldn’t come out with him, but Talon made it very clear that they didn’t want to pay for his plane ticket, despite the fact that Gabe could easily cover it. They made it very, _very_ transparent that they thought that Jesse would be a distraction, one that Gabriel did not need. 

Honestly, the kid would’ve been. But Gabe could appreciate the company. It would be better than drinking alone in his hotel room until Talon sent a car to pick him up for a ridiculous schedule that gave him little to no breathing room, only to repeat the process until the end of his little trip. Jesse would definitely get bored and do something stupid that ended with one or both of them in jail. 

Still, would’ve been better than being alone. 

He pushes that thought out of his head and tries to focus on Jesse telling him this wild tale of this girl that he saw at the coffee shop. Despite the fact that he knows the kid won’t do anything, he still reminds him about the brand new box of condoms in the bathroom. Jesse just laughs, the sound coming off as a little awkward. Gabe is well aware that the kid views him as some kind of older brother figure, and it trips him out whenever Gabe starts acting like a dad. Which is the main reason behind why Gabe does it so often. It’s fun watching him squirm. 

Eventually, they lapse into a lull in the conversation. That’s when Gabe decides to bite the bullet and tell Jesse. The words get stuck in his throat, but he needs to tell somebody before he drives himself insane with it. 

“So, I heard something interesting on the radio on the drive to the hotel,” Gabe starts. He’s not totally sure where he wants this to go, knowing full well that Jesse was present for all the fights, and the screaming matches. For fuck’s sake, there’s a reason the majority of their friends referred to it as a divorce. And yeah, he felt kind of guilty for getting Jesse in the middle of it. 

He hears the kid pause, all the background noise ceasing. “Oh?” he asks. Doesn’t add anything else. He’s giving Gabe a chance to pull it together to tell him whatever it is. The kid is pretty damn perceptive when he wants to be. 

“Yeah. It was Jack’s new song.” 

There’s a sharp inhale from the other side. Gabe leans against the window, hiding behind the sheer curtains. His room faces the pool so he doesn’t have to really worry about anyone seeing him. Not that it really matters to him, but Talon’s got a thing about his image that Gabe has just learned to roll with over the last year and a half. 

He watches a family play in the water as he waits for Jesse to respond. He hears something crinkle in the background and he almost wonders what it is. 

“Was it any good?” Jesse finally asks, his voice quiet. Gabe chuckles softly. He pulls away from the window to sit on the couch, feet pulled up underneath him. 

“Yeah. It sounds like him.”

There’s nothing more he can say. There’s a tightness to the back of his throat, one that’s been with him for years now. It’s heartbreak mixed with regret, guilt, and bitterness, a sadness that he cannot shake. Honestly, he should be over it by now. Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder why he’s not. 

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a long time, neither of them do. Gabe listens to the microwave start in the background, the sounds of Jesse puttering about the kitchen bringing him a small sense of comfort. They’ve been in this position so many times that it’s easy to picture it in his mind. 

“What was the song called?” Jesse finally asks. He sounds nervous, something Gabe thought he had finally shaken. To be fair though, this was an unusual situation. If he was in the kid’s position, he would be wary too. Just because he doesn’t remember the long nights of partying and drinking and fucking doesn’t mean that Jesse didn’t. 

“Ahead of myself,” Gabe replies. He stretches out on the couch, listening to the song start. He can barely hear it but he doesn’t really need to. He’s heard that voice so much, he doubts that he’ll ever forget what it sounds like. Especially now that it’s so fresh in his mind again. 

They don’t say anything as Jesse listens to the song. They still don’t talk as it ends and silence falls between them. It’s only broken by the microwave beeping at Jesse, telling him that his food is ready. It takes several minutes more before Jesse breaks the tension between them.

“Wow.” He doesn’t add anything else. 

“Yeah.” 

He hears the awkward cough. He continues to stare at the ceiling. He really doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Jesse finally says. Gabe can hear the scrape of a fork on ceramic. It starts tapping incessantly, a nervous tick that he’s never quite shaken. “Do ya, uhm. Do ya think it’s written about you?” he asks, the last part coming out as a whisper. 

Gabe can’t quite help the sharp intake of air. He considered the possibility multiple times now, unwilling to admit to himself. After everything that’s happened between him and Jack, he would honestly be surprised to hear that the other man missed him. If Gabe had been in Jack’s positon, he never would’ve forgiven him. 

“I don’t know kid, I honestly don’t.” Gabe admits. He runs a hand over his face. Jesse makes some noise, either in agreement or pity, he doesn’t know. 

He glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand and sees that it’s nearing 10pm. He groans aloud and pulls himself to his feet. “I have to go. I have an early morning. Besides, you should be in bed already,” Gabe points out. He hears Jesse snort as he digs through his suitcase for a clean pair of sweatpants and boxers. 

“You are aware that I’m 21, right?” 

“So, when are you going to start acting like it, brat?” Gabe shoots back, no real heat in his tone. Jesse just laughs before saying his goodbyes, hanging up after hearing the sentiments repeated back. 

The feeling of emptiness that he usually feels when left alone begins creeping back in, getting rid of whatever good feeling that Jesse managed to bring up. He tries to not dwell on it as he heads into the bathroom to shower and wash the day away. 

He takes longer than he usually does, giving into the small luxury of extending his shower time. He washes his body before his hair, trying to not linger on the scars left over from a past that he would rather not remember. He keeps telling himself that he’s not that man anymore. Some days, he even believes it. 

His hair keeps sticking to his back, a sign that it is definitely too long. It takes the entire tiny bottle of shampoo that the hotel provides him to wash it all. He doesn’t even bother with the conditioner. 

Gabe lingers in the shower, just letting the water flow over him. He can’t stop the memories from popping up, the ones that involve Jack and important early morning sexy times that always went longer than they meant to, leaving one or both of them scrambling to get to their respective jobs on time. 

Still, he would’ve traded everything just to get that back. 

Realizing that his thoughts were heading to a place that he didn’t want them to go, he forced himself out. He dried off quickly, wrapping his hair up in a towel as he got dressed for bed. 

The room felt too big to him. Talon spared no expense, a subtle reminder that he was nothing more than a caged bird. He sat on the bed, running the towel over his head to take as much water from his hair as he could. This was, kinda terrible. 

He pulled his phone out, grinning when he saw a snapchat from Jesse, the time stamp clear as day as he grinned at the camera. “Sleep is 4 the week,” read the caption. Gabe was fully aware that he was going to regret saying that in the morning when he had to get up for his early morning shift at the diner but he decided to not mention it. They were all young once. 

Gabe sent back a snap of him blowing him a kiss, turning it into a middle finger at the end. Then he opened up Spotify again. And clicked on Jack’s new song. 

He had to admit it was good, in a very bittersweet way. Kinda made him wish that things had ended differently between them. Made him wish that he knew then what he knows now. 

Resentment bubbled up in his chest, though he couldn’t quite figure out who it was directed towards. It could just be towards the situation as a whole. (He was never very good at deciphering his emotions. Never really been one of his strong suits. If it wasn’t anger, he didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know what to do with it.)

Gabe shut the app off again, too agitated to listen to Jack any longer. 

He sat on his bed for a few minutes longer, feeling the restlessness build up underneath his skin. He needed to go do something. Anything. He just needed to get the fuck out of his head. 

Gabe grabbed his phone again, pulling up twitter. He scrolls through a lot of meaningless bullshit, ignoring the fans begging for his attention and people who didn’t know him talking shit about him. Not the kind of distraction that he needed. 

Then he saw it. 

Free show. Starts in half an hour. Not at all far from his hotel. 

He jumped off the bed, throwing on his jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie and his leather jacket. He shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed his beanie, phone and wallet, and rushed out of his room. 

Then had to stop short. He had to be smart about it. Talon would be watching him no doubt. He made his way to the staircase at the end of the hall, keeping his head down. He didn’t take his time, jumping down as many stairs as he physically could. 

Gabe stopped a random employee, promising him an autograph when the kid recognized him, if he could help him escape without the paparazzi noticing him leaving. 

Twenty minutes later, he was climbing out of a cab, cigarette lit between his lips as he stood outside a sketchy venue. Even from the street, he could hear the heavy bass and the roar of the crowd. Yeah, this is what he needed. 

Paying the 15 bucks for the cover charge and he headed inside. The smoky atmosphere was a little difficult to see through but Gabe didn’t really care. He had to admit, he missed playing shows in places like this. There was just something a little rawer and a helluva lot more real about playing shows in the shitholes like this. You actually had to be good or you would get eaten alive. 

Bright side, he’s only missed the opening act. Downside, it would be a while before the next act went on. 

Gabe scanned the crowd, not really but definitely looking for any familiar faces. He didn’t see anyone he knew, so he headed over to the bar, and ordered a beer. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see this young looking girl eyeing him. She had to be barely legal, something that Gabe has definitely learned not to fuck with, if the mess with Jack was anything to go by. He pushed away from the bar and headed into the crowd. 

The lights went down as soon as he found a good spot by the railing. The crowd cheered as the band took the stage. Gabe damn near dropped his beer in shock. Holy shit. No way. 

Fareeha takes center stage, the spitting image of her mother. Her band follows behind her, taking their places. She flashes the crowd a smile and a wave before launching into an incredible metal cover of “Bad Romance”. 

Gabe hides his smile behind his beer. So, this is what she’s been doing while he was gone. Good for her. 

Ignoring the fact that he hated the song she was covering, he had admit that she did an amazing cover of it. The crowd was really fucking into it. A mosh pit opened on the floor, everyone losing their collective shit to the band. 

As soon as the song ended, they jumped straight into another one. It was clearly an original. The passion Fareeha sang with echoed through the small venue, reminding Gabe of the first time he ever saw her mom live. Hands down one of the best shows of his life. 

He was glad to see that Fareeha inherited her mom’s talent. He ended that thought there, well aware that she had grown into her own person. He knew exactly how tedious it was to have to live in someone else’s shadow. She had to be what, 19, now? Goddamn, where has the time gone? 

In between the second and third song, she caught his eye. He raised his cup to her and her smile became blinding. It wasn’t like she was holding back before, but he definitely noticed that she added more energy to her performance. 

Outside of the first song, he didn’t recognize anything that her band played and he made a mental note to look up more of her music later. She was really good. Well, the whole band was but her specifically. He had emotional ties to her, he was allowed to be bias. 

As soon as her set ended, she headed backstage and he headed back to the bar, getting his second beer. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, almost catching him off-guard. It didn’t though because he knew the moment she saw him that she would seek him out after her show. Honestly, he was glad that he was right about it. Would’ve hurt a lot if she still hated him for leaving. Not that he would blame her. 

He turned around and wrapped her in a hug, careful to keep from spilling his drink on her. 

“Uncle Gabe! I didn’t know you were coming,” Fareeha shouted. Gabe couldn’t have stopped his smile if he tried. He hugged her tighter. 

“I didn’t know it was your band playing. You guys were really good,” he tells her. He doesn’t mention that he had no idea how she would react to him just showing up to her show. His and Jack’s “divorce” really fucked with a lot of people. He knows for an absolute fact that Hana still refuses to talk about him. Same with Lena. To be fair, she was always more Jack’s friend than his. 

Fareeha laughs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, Justice for None was kind of a pet project back home. I just decided to risk it all and come out here with them, see if we could make it big. Whelp,” she gestures to the people waiting behind her, wanting their chance to talk to her, “here we are.”

Gabe just laughs. He remembers doing the same when he was younger. He was surprised that Blackwatch made it as far as it had. To be fair though, he was surprised that Deathblossom was doing better. Musically, Blackwatch was better, but Deathblossom gave him more creative freedom, something he hadn’t realized that he needed at the time. 

Resentment tried to bubble up in his chest again, but he shoved it away, not wanting to ruin his night with Fareeha. He really did miss her. 

He sent her to go talk to her fans, promising that he was staying for the rest of the show. He paid the cover charge, had to make sure that he got his money’s worth. He didn’t mention that he got the worth plus more when he got to talk to her. 

Gabe took his spot back by the railing, sipping his beer as he waited for the next act. He hadn’t heard of them either, but he expected that much. He was so wrapped up in his own career at the moment that he really hasn’t had the time to expand his musical horizons, so to say. 

Just as the next band was taking the stage, he felt Fareeha slide up next to him. She pressed herself to his side. He kept sending her off to go jump in the pit, like he knew she wanted to. If he actually had the energy for it, he would be down there with her, but alas, jetlag was a bitch and a half. 

It was well past midnight by the time the house lights came on. Fareeha was dripping with sweat, her hair sticking to her face. That didn’t dim her smile though. She looped her arm with his and led him outside with the rest of the crowd. 

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” she tells him. They’re a good distance away from the venue by now, heading towards a taco stand that Fareeha swears by. Since Gabe hasn’t had decent Mexican since he left LA, he gave no protest as he followed her. 

“Well, you better believe it because here I am,” Gabe replies. He pays for their food and claims the seat across from Fareeha. 

“We were all thinking that you were never going to come back, you know, considering what happened between you and-” she cuts herself off, taking a sip from her coke. 

“Yeah. I didn’t really expect to come back either. I’m just here for business though. With tonight being the exception,” Gabe replies. He picks at the label on his Corona, needing to do something with his hands. 

Fareeha sighs, like she had been expecting that answer. “How long are you here for? I’m sure Mom would love to see you,” she says. Gabe cocks an eyebrow at her. 

“I thought you moved out.” Wasn’t a question. She shrugs. 

“Mom moved. Took a place up in San Diego with… You know who. I chose to stay in LA.” 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “You can say his name you know. I’m over it.” 

It was Fareeha’s turn to raise an eyebrow at that. “Really? Because that’s not what Jesse was saying when he met up with you in New York.” 

The guy working behind the counter brought over their food as Gabe processed her words. “Wait, you were in contact with Jesse?” he finally asks, taking his food. He takes a bite and almost moans at how good the food is. Shit, he’s almost forgotten what real Mexican food tasted like. 

Fareeha shrugs again as she takes a bite of her own food. “When your parents go through a nasty divorce, the kids have to provide a stable support system so that they don’t collapse under the weight of the fallout,” she tells him. “Besides, we were all worried about you.” 

“Kid, I’m fine. Yeah, I hit a bit of a rough patch when Jack and I split but it was for the best. Came out of it better than before.” Somedays, that was even true. 

Obviously Fareeha heard what he wasn’t saying (kid really was like her mom, shit) because she just rolled her eyes as she finished her taco. “Either way, you didn’t answer my question. How long you here for?” 

“Supposed to be like two weeks, maybe longer if they keep adding interviews to my schedule. I think I have two shows I’m supposed to preform while I’m here too. Not actually sure on that though.” 

Fareeha whistles. “That sounds like a lot.” 

Gabe shrugs again. “It’s not that bad.” It’s worse. “It’s all to promote the new album.” That he’s not that proud of. Whatever. Every artist is allowed a bad album. He’s just got his fingers crossed that it doesn’t tank his career. 

“Still, that’s gotta be stressful,” Fareeha replies. She pulls out her phone, checking the time. “I should probably be heading home. I think the band is waiting up for me.” 

He waves her off. “Thanks for being my dinner date. And I’ll try to see if I can free up some time. Can’t make any promises.” 

“All I ask is that you try,” Fareeha replies, coming around the table to give him one last hug. “Is your number still the same?” He nods. “Good. I’ll text you when our next show is. If you can, you should come.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Gabe tells her. She flashes him one last smile before heading towards the street, her phone pressed to her ear. Gabe sighs and begins cleaning up their messing, throwing out their trash and recycling the bottles. 

It only occurs to him as he walks back to his hotel that he didn’t tell her about hearing Jack on the radio earlier that night. It was probably for the best. He couldn’t ignore the way she danced around his name, clearly uncomfortable with bringing him up in conversation. Like with Jesse, he couldn’t blame her. 

Miraculously, he makes it back to his hotel without being stopped, the kid from before letting him in through the kitchen. Gabe upholds his promise of an autograph and heads up to his room. 

He kicks off his boots and locks the door behind him. He pulls out his phone charger and plugs it in. Battery is at 2%. He’s doing well. 

Gabe changes back into his sweatpants from earlier, feeling the exhaustion from earlier that day come crawling back. Despite it, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He unlocks his phone, pulls up Spotify, and finds Jack’s song again. 

He saves it to his library, after clicking play of course, before going on a search for Fareeha’s band. And that’s how he spends his night until about 4AM, which is when he finally drops off. He falls asleep to Jack singing to him, almost like it was old times. 

But they fucked up, and there was no getting that back. 

_Guess I went ahead and jumped the gun again,_  
_Some shitty situation that I put you in._  
_And I know we poured champagne,  
_ _Maybe we was just too quick to celebrate._

_Thought I was ready, ready for someone else,  
But every time I get ahead of myself, every time I get ahead of myself._


	2. Let You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. Nongraphic description of something that could be triggering to some readers. See end note if you're worried about what it could be.

The next morning greeted Gabriel with a hangover. It’s by no means the worst one he’s ever had, but it’s enough to knock him on his ass. 

He might’ve made the great decision to come back to his hotel room and drink until he saw the sun coming up, but he’s not going to admit to it. If a man doesn’t have his pride, he has nothing. Or something like that. 

The clock reads 6:45, which is far too early to be functional. Unfortunately, he’s awake and that means that he’s going to be awake until he finds enough time to sneak in a quick nap. Which will probably be when he’s in the car, heading to one of the many interviews scheduled on this trip. 

Gabriel pulls himself out of bed, wincing when his shoulder twinges uncomfortably. He rubs at the tense muscle as he sets about making a pot of coffee, hoping that it’ll be enough to hold him over. 

He catches sight of himself in the mirror, cringing a little at how fucking old he looks. He snorts, lips quirking upwards. _‘Huh, never thought that 33 would be old’_ , he thinks as he pours himself a mug. He shakes his hair out of the bun he tied it up in, groaning in relief as the pressure is released. 

His phone pings cheerfully from its spot on the floor. Gabe raises an eyebrow at it, daring it to make another sound. His morning is peaceful, he’s not quite ready to lose that just yet. 

But the device will not be ignored, as it continues to ping obnoxiously. He rolls his eyes and crosses the room, picking it up along with his hoodie. 4 texts are waiting for him, the first being from someone at Talon letting him know that he has to be ready to go at 7:30 while the other 3 are from Jesse. 

They aren’t anything important, just Jesse checking in. Gabriel rolls his eyes as he responds, a small spot of fond in his heart for the kid. 

Since his phone’s in his hand, he checks Twitter. And is admittedly a little surprised at the amount of activity he’s accumulated in the last few hours. 

His twitter feed is flooded with hundreds of tweets, all talking about him being at the dirty grunge bar, name currently forgotten and buried, with people just losing their shit with the fact that THE Fareeha Amari is following him. Which, huh, guess she is now. 

Gabe’s proud to admit that he’s impressed by the loyalty that her fan base has to her. He’s even more proud to see that it hasn’t gone to her head. 

That gets him to outright laugh. Yeah, like Ana would ever let that happen. 

7:30 huh? 

*~*~*~*

The Starbucks he finds himself in is surprisingly dead considering the hour. His pumpkin spice latte is sitting in front of him, half gone. His sunglasses sit beside him, a rare move for him. But the low lighting already makes it hard to see, no need to make his life any more ridiculous. 

He can see one of the baristas eyeing him, but he doesn’t think too much about it. He’ll be long gone before anyone figures out that he’s famous. His notebook is also in front of him, the page mostly blank, aside from a few crossed out lines at the top of the page. 

Gabe’s loathed to admit it, but he’s hit something of a dead end. The anger from the betrayal and resulting breakup isn’t burning as hot and it shows in shitty writing. 

It’s a little bullshit that his sophomore album isn’t even out yet and already Talon is breathing down his neck to start production on the third. He doesn’t have a fucking clue as to what they expect from him, but he’s really beginning to wonder. 

The song on the stereo system changes and Gabe almost bashes his head into the table. He refrains, barely. 

Jack’s voice is still melodic, still beautiful, but it’s that ridiculous pop song he released years ago. Resentment twists in his chest, burning white-hot. He fucking hated this song. No, hates. Presently. 

He slams the notebook shut, violently pushes himself away from the table, and leaves without his drink. People on the street give him a wide berth, not wanting to get in the man’s way. 

It takes almost a mile before he can calm down. 

He’s doing better. At least he didn’t break a window this time. Or put another hole in the wall. He’s not entirely sure if Amelie ever forgave him for that.

Gabe drops onto a bench, head in his hands. A quick peek through his fingers tells him that nobody recognizes him so he gives himself a few minutes to finish pulling himself together. For fuck’s sake, he thought that he was past this. 

The most fucked thing about all of that was that it was a catchy song. Hell, Gabe loved it when it first came out. But… 

Fuck, it wasn’t Jack’s song. 

Gabe wanted to believe that Jack wouldn’t steal his music. Hell, Gabe could’ve forgiven him if he apologized for taking it and claiming it as his. He never did though. Jack couldn’t say that Gabe didn’t have anything to do with it because both him and Jesse remember the night they wrote it. 

He laughs to himself, the sound bitter and twisted on his tongue. It wasn’t Gabe’s style at all, and he would’ve gladly told Jack that he could keep it for himself because it fit his voice better but… That was just it. He never asked. 

And he never apologized for it. 

Gabe can feel his thoughts spiraling to a place that they probably shouldn’t go. He forces them back into the locked box and stands up. It takes a second to register that he’s in a park. Beyond that, he has no idea where he is. 

He points in a random direction and heads that way. He passes many people but they pay him no mind. 

It takes a moment to realize that he’s just going deeper into the park instead of leaving it. The thought of turning around sounds like too much work so he keeps to the path that he’s on, ignoring the curious glances from the people around him. He keeps his head down and hopes that they’ll just leave him the fuck alone. 

There’s an incessant buzzing in his pocket that he continues to choose to ignore. He’s not quite in the mood to deal with Talon’s bullshit just yet, his head still not quite in the right place. 

An old song pops into his head, one he hasn’t played in years. Not since Blackwatch at the very least. Wait, that’s not in his head. He stops and looks around. Sitting over by a cluster of trees is a group of teens, jamming out. 

Gabe feels his lips quirk of their own violation. Shit, that’s a really old song. 

A small piece of him wants to go over to them, to join them. The only thing that really stops him is that, if they’re fans of Blackwatch, there’s a solid chance that they hate him. Not that it bothers him, he knows he alienated a lot of his fan base when Blackwatch dissolved because of him. He just knows that if they pick a fight, he’ll take them on. 

God knows what Talon would do if he beat up a group of teenagers. 

The thought made him snort. Like they would do anything. Given all the shit he’s done in the last few years, he wouldn’t be surprised if they just gave him a slap on the wrist and told him to be good. 

He shakes the thought away and moves on, not dwelling any longer. 

It takes him maybe another twenty minutes of aimless walking to come to a clearing. There’s very few people around and he takes a seat on the grass, leaning back against a tree. The sun is directly overhead, a clear indication that he’s wasted far more time than he meant to. 

A heavy sort of weariness settles into his bones, making him sink further into the ground. He takes off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes. There’s a mild headache forming behind his eyes and he knows that it’s only going to get worse. It’s his own damn fault. He knows better than to get emotional. 

He sits back with a sigh and digs into his pocket for his phone. 39 unread texts and 14 missed calls. Alright. Whoops. 

Gabe deletes the voicemails without listening to them. Clears out all the messages from Talon without opening them. Tells Fareeha that he’ll be at her show that night. Doesn’t bother answering anything else. 

He takes a deep breath. And then another. 

The words that wouldn’t come earlier fill his head. He pulls out his notebook and begins writing, lips forming the words as he fills the page. A word here and there gets scratched out but it’s no longer whole lines. 

The cramping in his hand forces him to stop. He’s filled the page and then some. Gabe wishes that he had his guitar, needing to hear the music to go the lyrics. That makes his decision for him. 

Within the hour, he’s back in his hotel room. 

It doesn’t quite sound right acoustic but he’s not about to push his luck getting an amp set up without drawing attention to himself. It’s good enough. 

_If I could speak I'd tell you all my fears and deprivations_  
_If I could feel I'd take away your pain_  
_If I could bleed I'd show you all my scars and imperfections_  
_If I could breed I'd hold you in my veins_  
_You've got me feeling like an animal_  
_Beat down and feeling paralyzed_  
_You've got me feeling like I have no other hand to hold_  
_In this assisted suicide_  
_So say something beautiful_  
_Say what you're keeping inside_  
_This anticipation_  
_I will only let you down_  
_Say something meaningful_  
_Say what you're trying to hide_  
_This anticipation_  
_I will only let you down_

He stops, the sudden silence jarring. It, fuck, it sounds like something Blackwatch would’ve played. It unsettles him. More than he’s willing to admit. 

Gabe’s crossing the room and grabbing the bottle of Patron waiting for him. He doesn’t bother with a glass, cracking it open and taking a long swallow. The burn grounds him. 

He drops onto the ground in front of the bed, hand rubbing his forehead as he takes another long pull from the bottle. This should not be fucking him up. 

It takes half the bottle before he can pick up his guitar again. His playing gets sloppy and it sounds like shit but its fitting. In that twisted way that being an emotional mess only can be. 

_So say something beautiful_  
_Say what you're keeping inside_  
_This anticipation_  
_I will only let you down_  
_Say something meaningful_  
_Say what you're trying to hide_  
_This anticipation_  
_I will only let you down_

He dog-ears the page in his notebook and sets everything to the side, burying his face in his hands. Of course, he’s writing for Jack. Every fucking song he writes these days feels like he’s writing them to Jack. Not for him. 

Fuck. What is he even doing? 

He forces himself up onto the bed. He flops back, arms crossed over his eyes. All he can see is Jack. Every smile, every laugh, every scream, and every fight that ended with one or both of them storming away. 

The good and bad times are a jumbled mess in his head, partially fueled by the alcohol daze. It’s his own goddamn fault. He should’ve just talked to him. Should’ve actually listened. It doesn’t fucking matter. What’s done is done and now he just has the consequences. 

*~*~*~*

The smoke in the club is as thick as it was the night before. Gabe’s two drinks in and has already paid the bartender off so that he doesn’t have to adhere to the two drink maximum. 

He doesn’t see Fareeha anywhere, but he’s not worried about it. She’s texted him that she was running late. He trusts that she knows what she’s doing so he lets it go and finds himself a spot in the crowd. 

The first set is about to start, another unknown band. Gabe tries to withhold his judgement, but judging from their setup, he’s willing to bet it isn’t going to be his style. Whatever. He’s already paid, he might as well suffer. 

When Lena takes the stage, he almost walks out. And by almost, he makes it to the door before stopping and hiding out by the back wall. Given the way his day had gone, he shouldn’t even be surprised that Jack’s best friend would be playing tonight. 

In his own head he can admit that she has talent, that the band is really good, but would never voice it out loud. It’s loud, fast, and at times, angry. Gabe can appreciate a good punk band, but he couldn’t forgive Lena for hurting Amelie. 

Not that he has any idea as to what the fuck happened. Neither one of them was talking so it was left to speculation. Which was yet another nail in the coffin between him and Jack. Which is bullshit, but whatever. It happens. 

He checks his phone for what feels like the thousandth time, wondering where the hell Fareeha is. Lena's a good musician and an excellent showman, but he's still pissed at her and this is doing absolutely nothing positive for his mood. He's about to call it and head back to his hotel room for another session of drinking alone when he feels someone brush up against him.

He almost punches the person who puts their hand on his arm, only barely stopping himself when he sees that it’s Fareeha. With Ana standing behind her. 

Well. Shit. 

*~*~*~*

The tension between them is uncomfortable as they stand outside, each lighting up their respective cigarettes. Fareeha disappeared backstage to prepare for her set, leaving the adults to their… Conversation. It’s going well, considering neither of them has said anything in about ten minutes. 

Gabe isn’t willing to break the silence and he knows that Ana won’t. So now it’s just a waiting game. 

They can still hear Lena’s band playing, although her set must be almost over by now. Well, Gabe has his fingers crossed that it’s almost over because he doesn’t really want to leave before Fareeha takes the stage. 

With Ana here, he might anyways. Yeah, he’s well aware he’s a petty bastard. One of his many, many charming qualities. 

He takes another drag, holding for as long as he’s physically able. The silence between them is annoying. Like that tickle in the back of your throat when you have to cough but no matter how much you cough it never goes away. It’s like that, but three times worse. 

“You’re looking well,” Ana finally says, stubbing out her cigarette. She pushes her bangs out of her face, looking him in the eye. Despite every nerve ending telling him to look away, he keeps her gaze. 

“Thank you. You’re looking good as well. Aging better than the rest of us.” He means it too. Her long black hair only has a few streaks of gray in it, but it looks classy instead of a mess. 

Ana rolled her eyes at him but thanked him all the same. The silence fell over them again. Well, as silent as it could at a rock show. 

“What are you doing here Ana?” Gabe finally asks. It sounds as defeated as he feels. She looks at him from over her water bottle. He can’t quite make out the look on her face. A small piece of him misses when he used to be able to read her. 

“I’m here to see my daughter’s show,” she tells him. Like she expects him to buy that. He remembers distinctly when Fareeha fought her tooth and nail to stay in LA when Ana wanted to move. It ended in Fareeha running away and Ana leaving without her. It was… Complicated. It didn’t take a genius to see that the tension was still there between them, coming mostly from Fareeha. 

Gabe didn’t have kids so he had no room to judge. He doubts that he would do any better. 

He rolls his eyes, feeling exasperated. The roar of the crowd doubles, meaning that Lena’s set ended. He has maybe twenty more minutes to suffer through this awkward and stilted conversation. 

Truthfully, he can’t figure out why Ana isn’t pressing him or yelling at him. She’s never let things go before. He could chalk it up to growing older and wiser, but he knows better than that. 

She’s just waiting for the right time before going in for the kill. 

He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, giving into a vice he rarely indulges in anymore. He bought the pack on his way to the show and it’s already a third of the way gone. 

Gabe makes it about halfway through the cigarette before he decides that he’s done not having a conversation with Ana. He stubs it out and puts it back in the pack, turning to head back inside. 

“Don’t walk away from me,” Ana snaps. Gabe turns back to face her, annoyance written all over his face. He squares his shoulders, ready for the fight he was waiting all night for. 

“What exactly am I walking away from? The conversation we’re not having?” he asks, acid dripping from his words. She visibly bristles. 

“I’m not your enemy Gabriel, stop treating me like one,” she says, her tone at odds with her posture. He snorts, crossing his arms.

“Really? I’m not the one picking a fight,” he lies, knowing full well that he’s picking the fight. 

Ana sighs, clearly done already but not backing down. “You can’t keep doing this Gabe. At this rate, you’re going to wind up alone.” 

“How do you know that’s not what I want? Time’s change, people change. I’m not the same kid I was. How ‘bout you stop lying to me and tell me why you’re really here,” he says, stepping closer to her. The others who were outside with them head inside, aware of the tension between them. The bouncers are eyeing them but aren’t intervening yet. 

Gabe has to wonder how long it’s going to take before they do. 

“Fine, I heard you were in town and I wanted to see you. What was the harm in that?” she asks. 

“The last time we saw each other, you threatened to kill me if you ever saw me again,” he reminders her, drawing his finger across his neck. She has the decency to look ashamed, and a small bitter piece of him takes great delight in that. 

Ana takes a deep breath and releases it. “You threw a beer bottle at my head. You cannot expect me to take that from you. That being said, I should not have reacted the way I did. It was not my proudest moment.” 

Gabe knows realistically, she’s telling the truth. Ana’s one of his oldest friends, coming into his life about the same time he met Jack. Still, the betrayal cut deep when she took Jack’s side. He never meant to hurt her, despite the fact that his actions say otherwise. 

“I am sorry for that. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, taking another step closer. She meets him halfway, stopping in front of him. 

“I know that Gabriel. I forgave you a long time ago,” she tells him, placing her hand on his cheek. He leans into her touch, barely restraining himself from nuzzling into her palm like a kitten. 

“I don’t understand why you would. I was awful to you, to all of you, the last few months I was here,” he says. He pulls back, taking her hand in his. 

Ana places her other hand on top of his, holding it between both of her palms. “We were all in a situation that did not allow much room for understanding or forgiveness. Our egos clouded our judgement and ripped apart our bond. It was not your fault Gabriel, the same way it wasn’t Jack’s.” 

He pulls away like he’s been burned. “Like hell it wasn’t,” he growled. Ana sighs, like she knew that was coming. 

“Gabe, if you would just stop and listen-“ Whatever she was going to say gets lost as Gabe turns on his heel and leaves. Because he’s still not ready. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be. He hears her start to say his name but stops herself. He pays it no mind as he heads to the street. 

God, what a waste of his night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It's passing mention of the final fight, where Gabe had thrown a beer bottle at Ana. It didn't hit her, despite what Gabe thinks.)
> 
> Next chapter, the heat and drama turns up. More was supposed to happen but... I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer for a new chapter. I suck at updating so I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Gabe's song:  
> ['Let You Down' by Seether (Actual Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXdDJyBEFj4)  
> [(Acoustic Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOcf7XF3RuI)


	3. Grapevine Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update. I hate this chapter but I'm so tired of trying to fix it. I promise the next one will be better.

Okay, the silence in his hotel room is officially oppressive. 

Gabe pushed his hair back with his hand, gripping it tightly before letting go with a sigh. He flopped back onto his bed, arms crossed over his eyes. All he can see is the disapproval in Ana’s eyes as she looked at him. It makes him sick. 

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick apology text to Fareeha, more so out of guilt than anything else. He doesn’t specify why he left, but he has a feeling that she already knows. 

The bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the table looks so inviting. 

It takes more self-restraint than he has, but he manages to ignore it, picking up the television remote. Since he knows that nothing is going to hold his attention, he picks a random movie channel and turns the volume down. 

The red numbers on the clock blink from 2:13 to 2:14 and Gabe groans. It’s too late to go back out but there’s no way that he can go to sleep. 

Holy fuck, he’s bored. 

For a moment, he almost entertains the idea of masturbating but shoos that thought away. If he could get it up, there was no promise that he could make it stay. 

The sound of a chainsaw draws his attention back to the TV, to some b-rated slasher flick. He gets up and shuts off the lights. Crawls back on the bed, moving all the pillows so that he can sit against the headboard. 

The longer he watches it, the more familiar the movie becomes. When it cuts to commercial, a familiar pang in his chest rears its ugly head. Yeah, he remembers this movie. 

_”Really, Gabe? **Texas Chainsaw Massacre**? What are you, 12?” Jack asked, swinging himself over the back of the couch after passing the bowl of freshly made popcorn to the man in question. _

_Gabe just grinned at him, flicking a kernel so that it hit him in the face. “What’s wrong, Jackie boy? You scared?” Jack just rolls his eyes, shoving him lightly before cuddling up against his side, feet tucked underneath him._

_”This movie isn’t even scary, it’s just gross,” Jack muttered, resting his head on Gabe’s shoulder. The older man called bullshit but didn’t say it out loud, just put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder._

_”Don’t worry babe, I’ll protect you from Leatherface,” Gabe told him, schooling his face so that he looks very serious. Jack took one look at him and snorted, patting his chest._

_”Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say,” Jack replied, turning the volume up. He tucks himself more securely against Gabe, lacing their fingers together. The older man doesn’t have to look down to know that Jack’s still smiling. He feels the grin on his own face soften._

Gabe has to blink heavily to get rid of the tears. Really? He’s really going to get worked up over a shitty horror movie? God, what even is his life?

He changes the channel before it can actually make him cry. 

Despite channel surfing for a few more minutes, there’s nothing else that catches his attention so he settles on a terrible infomercial. He turns it into a drinking game, taking a drink every time someone says ‘that’s incredible!’ and ‘but wait! There’s more!’ It does not take long for him pass the point of tipsy. 

Gabe’s enough of a man to admit to himself that he’s drinking to cope. It’s a little bullshit that seeing Ana and then thinking of Jack is enough to make him want to drink until he blacks out. But he’s more honest the further down the bottle he sinks. He can’t quite deny that he misses them. 

He misses staying up all night with them, writing music and just having jam sessions. He misses the family dinners and the inside jokes. He misses piling into someone’s car and going on a road trip to go catch a show for someone’s favorite band. Fuck’s sake, he misses just seeing them almost every day, if not every day. 

Okay, fuck, he’s a lot drunker than he thought he was. He can feel the pressure building behind his eyes, definitely feeling the tightness grip his throat, making it harder to breathe. 

Gabe carefully sets the almost empty bottle of Captain Morgan on the ground and lays down, head down at the foot of the bed. He throws an arm over his eyes, wincing slightly as it lands a little heavier than he meant it to on his nose. He tries to regulate his breathing as he continues to listen to the infomercial. 

It’s a tad bit more difficult than he thinks it should be. 

He glances up when he hears his phone vibrating on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the room. He debates the merits of moving to answer it, but before he can make an actual decision, the light shuts off so he thinks nothing of it. Then the screen lights up again, but Gabe’s already drifting off so he doesn’t think about it again. 

~*~*~*~

It’s the incessant pounding at his door that wakes him up in the morning. Gabe groans loudly, head spiking violently with the effects of his hangover. He sits up with another groan, surveying the room as he shakes a hand through his hair. 

Good, it wasn’t one of those nights where he go too fucking drunk and trashed the hotel room. He glances at the bottle of Captain Morgan, completely empty, and groans ever louder. Who the fuck gave him Captain Morgan? That shit is nasty. He drops the empty bottle onto his bed and buries his face in his hands, trying to scrub away the misery from a long night. 

The knocking persists, and Gabe is feeling just this side of wrong enough that he might murder whoever was on the other side of the door. 

“Give me a goddamn minute!” he yells, struggling to pull on his pants from the night before. Weird, he doesn’t remember taking them off. Whatever. 

The knocking pauses for a second, just long enough for Gabe to get his hopes up that whoever it is just left, before is starts again. This time around, it’s a little quieter but Gabe is definitely planning on where he’s going to bury the body. 

Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue as he flings the door open, seeing Jesse standing on the other side, wearing his ridiculous cowboy hat with a stupid grin on his face. A quick glance behind Jesse tells Gabe that Hanzo came with him, looking for all the world like he would rather be anywhere else. Which, fair enough. 

Gabe stays silent, just long enough that the grin on the cowboy’s face falters. It’s still bright but it’s significantly dimmer now and Gabe kind of feels like an ass but he’s really fucking confused. 

“What are you doing here?” he finally asks, crossing his arms. The grin Jesse had drops completely and he gives Gabe a confused look. For whatever reason, it reminds the older man of a puppy. 

“What do you mean? Ya called me last night, beggin’ me to come out here,” Jesse replies. Gabe groans, rubbing his head. He really, really fucking needs to stop drinking rum. He keeps doing stupid shit when he does. 

“Don’t get me wrong kid, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here? I thought you had work this week,” he asks, stepping aside to let both of the younger men inside. He’d really rather not have this conversation where someone could overhear them. 

Jesse wastes no time, immediately bouncing on the other bed, messing up the pristine sheets. Hanzo follows at a more subdued pace, carefully taking a seat on the arm chair in the corner. Gabe takes a seat on his own bed, migrating the empty bottle back down to the floor. He watches Jesse watch the action, taking note of the concerned expression but dismissing it. 

“Seriously, why are you here?” Gabe doesn’t mean to snap but the hangover is atrocious and all he wants to do is go back to sleep until it’s an acceptable time to start drinking again. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s still a few hours away. 

Hanzo opens his mouth to say something, but Jesse shoots him a look at Gabe can’t read, making the other man shut his mouth with a slight glare. 

“I just missed you,” Jesse says, smiling. Gabe knows him too well though, and knows that the kid is lying to him. The older man just raises an eyebrow and waits. Eventually, Jesse sighs and takes off the hat, shaking out his hair. He fiddles with the brim, not quite meeting Gabe’s eye. “Okay, I got fired last night and wanted to see you.”

Gabe glances at Hanzo, who confirms his story with a nod. 

Something akin to pity twists in his chest, but he can read Jesse’s body language and refrains from saying anything. Despite what some people may think, he is capable of showing tact. 

“That sucks,” is his eloquent reply, getting an amused snort from the kid. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here, or why you brought him.” 

Jesse glances at Hanzo, his face turned away from Gabe so that he can’t read his expression. He can’t make out the look on the other man’s face either so Gabe resigns himself to wondering while he waits. 

“Miss Amari texted Jesse last night,” Hanzo tells him, ignoring Jesse’s semi-frantic hand-wavey gestures. 

“Ana has your number still?” Gabe asks, raising an eyebrow. He distinctly remembers Jesse losing his phone and having to get a new one, including a new number due to some… Unfortunate complications. 

Guilt and a little bit of shame cross Jesse’s face as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It was Fareeha. The texts were a little more frantic after she found out that you left her show early.” 

Yeah, okay. Gabe should’ve seen that coming. The kids were always close, despite the age difference between them. He really should have realized that they would’ve found a way to stay in contact. 

Still, he rolls his eyes and grabs a beer from the mini-fridge, ignoring the look on concern Jesse shoots his way. He sits heavily on his unmade bed, staring out the window. Funny, he doesn’t remember opening the curtains. 

“Funny, last time I checked, I’m older than you. I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he points out, cutting his eyes towards Jesse. The cowboy flinches, just barely, and Gabe isn’t the only one who notices. Hanzo visibly bares his teeth at Gabe. He returns the gesture, not feeling particularly nice. Whatever pleasantness he felt when he first saw the kid is gone now that he’s a little more awake. This hangover’s going to be a fucking _bitch_.

Jesse holds up his hands, trying to placate them. Gabe backs down first, taking a long drink from his beer. Hanzo glares a moment more before leaning back in his seat, tension still lingering heavily in his posture. 

“Secondly, why the fuck is he here? Don’t you have a company to run?” Gabe asks, directing the last question towards the man in question. 

Hanzo shrugs. “I could afford to take a vacation. They will survive without me for a few days.” 

That answered nothing but Gabe was a little hard pressed to care at this point. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep and pretend that this day hadn’t happened. Or the day before. Actually, if he could erase the last few years, that would be great too. 

Like a sixth sense, Jesse realized that Gabe was about 30 seconds away from completely snapping at them. He motioned for Hanzo to get up, and turned back to Gabe. 

“It was a long flight, and we’re both tired, so we’re gonna go crash now. Meet us for dinner tonight?” he asks, looking too damn hopeful for Gabe to say no. The older man grunted a non-answer, waving him away. 

Jesse seemed to take that as an agreement because he lit up like a fucking spotlight. Both he and Hanzo said goodbye before exiting his room. 

Gabe heard the door right next to his beep open and he rolled his eyes. Because why the fuck not. He flopped back onto his bed, arm thrown over his eyes. 

After a moment, he moved his arms back down to his side, dropping the empty bottle onto the carpet. He stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny imperfections that he could see. 

The silence began to drive him crazy after only a few minutes. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, disregarding the texts that had piled up. His schedule was open for the day, which was all that mattered. Everybody could fuck off until he got a nap in. 

He clicked his Spotify app open, scrolling through his music and putting it on shuffle. Like his subconscious is trying to fuck him over, he clicks on Jack’s song. 

As he listens to his former flame sing, he can’t help but remember the happier times, when they actually loved each other and weren’t actively trying to fuck the other over. (Gabe could admit (at least to himself, alone, in his head) that they were both guilty of hurting each other, they just went about it in different ways.) 

Gabe moved so that he was actually laying in his bed, head on a pillow and everything, as he listened to the song. A sudden curiosity struck him, and he opened the YouTube app. It took a minute of searching but he found an old video, posted a few years ago, back in their prime. Though it’s hidden from the public, Jack’s always been a sentimental bastard and let Gabe have access to it still. 

His finger hovers over the video, hesitating for a moment, before hitting it. As it loads, Gabe sits up and props himself against the headboard, a little déjà vu from the night before briefly crossing his mind. The soft laughter coming from his phone startles him from the thought. He can’t stop the fond smile from crossing his face as he sees Jack on screen. 

(Honestly, he’s surprised that the video is still up. He really would’ve thought that Jack would’ve deleted it. Gabe would have.)

_”Really Gabriel? Are you really going to film this?” Jack asks, blushing though he’s smiling. His own laugh echoes back to him, along with a younger Jesse’s and Gabriel’s grandmother’s._

_”Of course, mi sol. Someday, you’re going to want to look back on this and remember where you got your big break.” Gabriel replies. Everyone laughs, the sound happy and not malicious like in later years._

_Gabriel’s grandmother settles back into her armchair, hands folded over her stomach as she watches Jack take a seat at the baby grand piano that she’s always had. “Besides, you promised me that you would perform for me when you came out to visit.”_

_Jack nods, though it looks more like he’s just bobbing his head as he settles in. Gabriel props the camera up so that he can sit on the couch next to Jesse, who’s stretched out across the entire length. He picks the camera back up and keeps it trained on Jack as he uncovers the keys and quickly stretches his fingers out. He takes a deep breath and begins to play._

_Friday night getting done up_   
_You say you wanna look just like a china doll_   
_I answer that you do from the hall_   
_My patience was waning, half moon, now I'm lit up waxing poetic_   
_In the bathroom_   
_I say that apart from lust_   
_The secret to love is secrets plus trust_   
_She says I got a smart tongue_   
_I said in more ways than one_   
_You're rolling your eyes but you wondering_   
_Come on, come on, come on, come on_

_Come on give me something that I can believe in_   
_Got those bedroom eyes in the living room_   
_And we're pulling all the blinds in the afternoon_   
_All I wanted was to be somebody someone could believe in_   
_But I'm a grapevine valentine_   
_I'm the catch in your throat when you wanna cry_   
_When all I really wanna do is catch you smile_   
_Smile, yeah_

_(Though the video doesn’t show it, Gabe remembers the look on Jesse’s face as he listened, leaning into Gabe’s side. He remembers the soft smile on his grandmother’s face as she watched him watch Jack. He would give anything to go back to that day and relive that moment.)_

_Jack plays the rest of the song, seemingly oblivious to his audience. Gabe knows he’s not though. He finishes to enthusiastic applause. Gabriel sets the camera down and comes up behind him, hugging his boyfriend tightly._

_”Did ya really play a sex song for Grandma Reyes?” Jesse asks, giggling. Jack laughs and blushes, grabbing Gabriel’s forearms._

_The woman in question stands up, coming over and giving Jack a kiss on the cheek. “Well, he made this old woman feel very special so thank you, Jack.” She swats Jesse with the back of her hand. “You, on the other hand, could learn how to treat a lady right.”_

 

Gabe blinks away the tears that are threatening to fall. To him, it’s bullshit that it makes him upset still. He should be fucking over it.

With a groan, he shut his phone off and dropped it off the side of his bed. All he needs is some fucking sleep and he can just put this all behind him. 

~*~*~*~

About 7 o’clock that evening, Gabe found himself standing in the elevator with Jesse and Hanzo, half listening to Jesse chatter on about this place that a buddy of his recommended. Hanzo is watching the cowboy fondly, something Gabe took note of but made no mention of. Whatever, as long as the kid’s happy, he doesn’t care who he’s happy with. 

Despite the darkness outside, Gabe pulls his sunglasses on as they sneak out through the kitchen. They head to this restaurant that’s only a few blocks away, more so towards central LA. Walking only takes them about 30 minutes to get there, which is great because Jesse was complaining about how hungry he was since before they even left. 

Because Gabe still feels pretty fucking guilty about everything that he’s put the kid through in the last few years, he doesn’t say anything. 

The restaurant, some chic thing that Gabe couldn’t be bothered to remember the name to, was surprising not busy when they entered. Since it was a Sunday night, he shouldn’t have been so caught off guard, but he was. 

They were immediately seated towards the back, which was fine. Gabe ordered a whiskey neat, pointedly ignoring the look that Jesse sent his way. He didn’t need the kid’s fucking pity. Or his worry. 

He slammed it back before ordering another one, having not even opened his menu yet. Again, ignoring the look that Jesse and Hanzo share when they thought that he wasn’t looking. 

Dinner seems to pass in a similar fashion. Gabe isn’t totally sure why he accepted the invitation, given that he contributes nothing to the conversation. If he didn’t know better, he would say that Jesse looked sad about his lack of participation. But Gabe was no one’s dancing monkey. There was nothing to say. 

Their food arrives in record time, just before Jesse can try to pull him back into the conversation. Gabe orders his third glass, unsurprised by the waitress’ unease about giving him another glass. She does anyways, after Jesse assures her that they took a cab to get there. Which they didn’t, but Gabe wasn’t about to correct him since it meant getting his alcohol faster. 

He dug into the steak that he could’ve sworn sounded delicious only half an hour ago with mild and faked enthusiasm, choking it down since it tasted like nothing. But he can see Jesse eyeing him, worry aging him about ten years, so Gabe forces himself to choke down the rest of his meal, pretending that it tasted better than it did. 

(Later, he would blame it on the alcohol for being the reason that he couldn’t eat. Not that he was so fucking depressed about Jack that he lost his appetite. The kid didn’t need to know that.)

He made himself play along to happy family act, if only for Jesse’s sake. He made (his version of) polite inquiries about Hanzo’s family business that he took over and made the appropriate noises in response to his replies. Gabe gave half-hearted and mostly vague answers to both of the boys’ questions about his own recent adventures. 

(Gabe didn’t dare bring up Jack or his new song. Nobody could know that he still loved the bastard, after everything that happened. Nobody, especially Jesse. He didn’t need to hurt the kid any more than he already had.)

Hanzo and Jesse shared a dessert, something with far too much sugar and a lot of chocolate, though Jesse ate most of it. The gesture was still sweet, and Gabe could’ve sworn that he got a cavity from it. He didn’t get anything himself, though he did switch his drink to water, already making a plan to get Talon to get someone to hit up a liquor store to get him more alcohol. 

Gabe gets the check, though Hanzo makes some sound of protest. He relents when Gabe tells him that he can get the next one. 

He’s really hoping that there isn’t a next time, but he’s not going to hold his breath. 

Jesse happily chats away at Hanzo while Gabe tunes him out, choosing instead to look around the restaurant with mild disinterest. 

There’s a commotion up towards the front. He can hear people (paparazzi) shouting for someone’s attention, the obnoxious flashes from the cameras lighting up the front entrance. Before Gabe can even wonder what’s going on, a small group of people are ushered in, the one ahead of the group pulling off his hat and pushing back his hood. 

Gabe’s brain short-circuits for a moment, and he’s standing before his mind catches up with his body, because despite the years, he’ll never forget that shock of blond hair. He’ll never forget those blue eyes, or that smile. 

Before he can fully realize what he’s doing, he walks over to the group and proceeds to punch Jack right in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you are probably wondering why there was a random flashback, don't worry about that. It'll be explained later, maybe. 
> 
> Jack's song:  
> [Grapevine Valentine by Kingsfoil (Studio Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOm-MUBrwqk)  
> [(Acoustic Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hd2-Tcjb8g8)


	4. It Won't Kill Ya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously enjoy lying to myself about updating quickly. I'm sorry about the wait. Hopefully this... kinda?... makes up for it. 
> 
> Warnings: heavy drinking. my shitty Spanish. 
> 
> Unbetaed. (That really should count as a warning...)

Miraculously, the cops don’t get called. 

Actually, it’s less of a miracle and more of Jack being too fucking nice. Regardless of the facts, it’s still a good thing. Gabe’s also a solid 90% sure that nobody got any pictures of him hitting Jack. Which is also good. 

What’s not good though is that he’s now sitting in the back storage room with said person while Jesse and Hanzo do damage control. (Jesse’s gotten really good at cleaning up Gabe’s messes, something that Gabe is well aware of and feels so fucking guilty because of. But apparently, he doesn’t feel that bad about it because he keeps doing it. Someday, someday Jesse will leave and Gabe damn well knows that it’ll be his own damn fault.) 

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling it tightly at the roots to try and ground himself. Jack is sitting in front of him, holding a plastic bag full of ice wrapped in a towel to his nose. It didn’t break but it’s definitely going to bruise up really bad later on. He won’t meet Gabe’s eyes. 

Gabe doesn’t blame him. That was a bit of an extreme reaction. 

The silence between them is awkward and neither of them seems keen on breaking it. What do you even say in this situation? It was a long-standing rule in their relationship that they don’t apologize if they don’t mean it. Which, admittedly, explains why they stopped apologizing to each other when the fights starting getting worse, just a little too cutthroat and a little too close to home. 

Gabe still refuses to look at Jack and the other man won’t look up from the floor. 

Right. Well. This is going just great. 

“I really would’ve thought that you would’ve hit me back.” It takes Gabe a moment to realize that yes, he did just speak. Jack is startled out of his staring contest with the floor and gives him confused, hurt puppy dog eyes. Gabe tries to tell himself that it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. It almost works. 

But it is a really good question. One that was definitely worth bringing up, because there once was a time when Jack would fight pretty much anyone over pretty much anything and everything. It got worse with Jack’s addiction and Gabe’s constant drinking, but that was beside the point. The point was that Jack would’ve gotten right back up and hit him back. That he didn’t is cause for concern. 

The blond laughs softly, the sound bitter and humorless. “A lot can change in a few years, Gabe,” he mutters. There’s something he’s not saying and Gabe has no idea as to what it could be. (Though his voice is slightly distorted because of the whole nose thing, Gabe really can’t deny that he’s missed the sound. Part of him wishes that it was under better circumstances, but this is the bed he’s made.)

A spark of annoyance flares up in his chest regardless. “Oh, really? I haven’t noticed,” Gabe spits out. Jack rolls his eyes. 

“There you go, picking fights again like you’re the fucking victim,” Jack snapped. “Did you already forget that you’re the one who punched me in the fucking face,” he asks, though it’s obviously not a question. He doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Something that clearly rubs Jack the wrong way if the red in his cheeks is anything to go by. 

“Why are you even here? To rub your successful career in my face, like I wasn’t the one who got you here in the first place?” Gabe asks, tone light despite the bite to his words. Jack reels back like he just got slapped. 

He stands up, throwing the ice pack on the ground, his eyes bright and just a little watery. “Fuck you Gabriel. Not everything is my goddamn fault. It’s not like I knew you would be here. If I had known, I never would’ve even come.” 

“Oh really? Why’s that?” Gabe asks, crossing his arms and leaning back. Picture of laidback, even though his shoulders and spine are tense enough to snap. 

Jack snarls, the expression ugly on an otherwise pretty face. “I’m not a fucking masochistic like you. I, at least, know when to walk away.” 

He storms out of the supply closet before Gabe can reply. Not that Gabe really knew how to respond to the accusation. It’s not like he’s wrong.

Gabe thumps his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. Yeah, well, that could’ve gone better. 

~*~*~*~

It’s an uncomfortable trek from the restaurant back to the hotel, what with the tension between all of them. Jesse tries, really early on, to ask what happened but Gabe shut him up with a glare before the question can come out. Jesse shut his mouth with an audible click, which of course made Hazno level an icy look at Gabe. 

Because Gabe’s in the business of lying to himself on an hourly basis now, he pretends that it doesn’t bother him as he walks ahead of the younger men. 

They separate and head to their respective rooms, not a word spoken between them. 

Gabe shuts the door, flicking the lock, and then leans his forehead against the wood. That was… about what he expected. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget the look of utter heartbreak on Jack’s face when he realized just who had hit him, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t forget the betrayal that colored his tone when they spoke. Couldn’t forget his smile just before Gabe ruined it, just like he always did. 

The man pushed away from his door, stumbling to his bed. Goddamnit, this wasn’t his fucking problem! If Jack would just…

He couldn’t finish the thought, the taste of the lie too bitter on his tongue. 

This time, he really couldn’t blame Jack because the younger man had done literally nothing to provoke him. It was just Gabe being unable to control his own goddamn emotions. 

At times like these, Gabe would really be craving a drink. Which he was. For the moment though, he refrained, not needing to add any fuel to the fire already burning in his brain. He chewed on his lower lip, trying to wrack his brain for something he could do that wouldn’t involve alcohol. 

Naturally, he came up blank. A quick glance at the clock tells him that it’s only 10, and if he was about ten years younger, he would be hitting up the party scene. But, since he’s not, he takes that option off the table and tries to think of something else. 

His phone vibrating against his leg draws his attention. It takes a minute of fumbling for him to pull out the device, finding that he had a text from Fareeha. 

_’rly Gabe? Y would u punch jack in the face? What happened?’_

Gabe frowns at the message, more so because of the chat speak than anything else. He doesn’t even bother questioning how she knows, since Jesse more than likely told her. 

_’Does it really matter? People are going to think whatever they want, why should I provide them an answer that they can twist around._

He shuts his phone off entirely and throws it onto the other bed. He shimmies out of his jeans, shuts off the light, and crawls into bed, pretending that the wounded look on Jack’s face wasn’t because of him.

~*~*~*~

At the rate Gabe is going, he’s admittedly surprised that Talon hasn’t dropped his ass yet. 

He’s cut another bullshit interview in favor of sitting in a different café, drinking shitty overpriced coffee like it’s actually good. It’s close to 80-something degrees outside, and he’s wearing a scarf and beanie, like that’s somehow going to stop people from recognizing him. But nobody’s approached him so he must be doing something right. 

He’s not really paying attention again, zoning out in his thoughts. Gabe can’t quite stop his mind from going back to the night before, punching Jack in the face like it meant something. Brushing the other man off like he wasn’t worth anything. Acting like he truly believed it. 

Honestly, he’s trying not to think about it but every thought he has just comes circling back to it. Realistically, he knows that it could’ve gone worse, but in this moment, he’s failing to see how. 

It’s frustrating. It’s annoying. And it’s his own goddamn fault. If there’s any truth to be found, it would be that. 

Sitting there dwelling on the event was getting him nowhere, so he finally opts to leave, only to stop short when someone takes a seat right across from him. 

At first, he doesn’t recognize her, what with the sunglasses covering a solid third of her face and the side shave. Then she grins at him, and he knows that goddamn smirk anywhere. 

“What the fuck do you want Sombra?” Gabe snarls, clenching his fists. To his annoyance, she just continues to smirk, like she knows something that he doesn’t. Which, honestly, she probably does.

“Relax _homes_ , I’m not looking to get my face rearranged like you did to lover boy last night,” she said, sipping her ridiculously sugary-sweet frappuccino. Sombra sets her drink down and pushes her sunglasses up, her violet eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Gabe groans and sits back in his seat, dragging his hand down over his eyes. Of fucking course. Why else would she be here?

“Oh please, like I even hit him that hard,” Gabe snaps, downing about half his coffee despite it still being just this side of too hot to drink. Sombra just snorts into her drink, propping her chin up in her hand. 

“Gabriel, don’t play stupid. It’s not a cute look on you, _amigo_ ,” she purrs, tracing her fingernails up and down his exposed forearm. He yanks his arm away from her touch, pulling down his sleeve while he’s at it. 

He narrows his eyes at her, deeply annoyed that she isn’t bothered in the slightest by it. “Don’t you have to go be obnoxious somewhere else? Since you’re so fucking amazing, and the world can’t exist without you, or whatever bullshit hype it is that you believe about yourself now.”

Sombra finally drops the smile and glares at him. “ _No seas tan perra,_ Gabriel. It’s not a good look on you,” she growls. He just rolls his eyes. “What’s got your panties in a twist anyways? I thought you hated him now.” 

Hearing her say that out loud made something in his stomach curdled uncomfortably. Because, it’s true, isn’t it? He hates him. At least, that’s the image he’s been projecting for the last few years. It’s really too bad that everyone believes it but him. 

“What did he do anyways?” she asks, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Ya know, to invoke such a _strong_ reaction.”

Gabe rolled his eyes again. “I saw his face. It was enough.” 

She cocks a perfectly styled eyebrow at him, the disbelief clear on her face. “Really? That’s it? I thought he assaulted your grandmother from the way you reacted.” 

He flinches, because okay. Yeah. It was a little bit of an extreme reaction. Which, hearing her say that, brought another question to mind.

“How do you even know about that anyways? The paparazzi didn’t get any pics and the cops didn’t get called.” 

“Really? Damn, that boy’s heart’s still got a hard-on for you.” He ignores her comment, just waiting for her to answer him. After a minute of silence, she sighs. “Jesse-boy texted me last night, wondering if I knew anything. Which I didn’t, btw.” She points out to him, like that’s going to get her point across clearer. It doesn’t. 

Gabe feels stunned, and a little betrayed. It’s a feeling that he’s becoming increasingly familiar with as time passes on. It’s… It’s really not okay.

He stays silent, so she barrels on like she doesn’t notice. “I mean, how could I? It’s not like you talk to anybody about anything these days. You didn’t even tell me that you were in fucking town, for shit’s sake.”

Still, he says nothing. What is there to say? If he had truly had it his way, he would’ve never come back. Sure, it kind of sucked not seeing his friends anymore, but LA wasn’t home anymore. It hadn’t been in a long time. 

And it’s getting weird how often that thought keeps circling his mind, like he’s stuck on it. He grew up in LA, spent his whole life there. Here. It just no longer feels like a place he knows. Like he’s a visitor in his own skin. It’s a disconnect he can’t reconcile and, in the privacy of his mind, only there can he admit that maybe he doesn’t want to. 

Gabe shakes the thought away, tuning back in to Sombra as she rants about something or another, moving the topic of conversation away from him and going on about herself. It gives him the breathing room he didn’t know he needed. 

As tempted as he is to send her away, he can’t quite deny that he appreciates her company. It keeps him from spiraling into a pit of self-loathing and pointless anger. Besides, she not giving him sad puppy-dog eyes like Jesse does every time he thinks that Gabe isn’t paying attention. It’s almost refreshing. 

Sombra pulls out a nail file from God knows where, starting with her index finger on her left hand, pointedly not looking at him. She cracks her gum loudly. He barely manages to suppress a flinch because when did she start chewing gum? And how could she, what with the sugary monstrosity that she was drinking? His own stomach turned at the thought of that flavor combination. 

“Anyways, I’ve got a gig tonight and you’re going to be there. You need to get out more _hombre._ You’re a complete and total buzzkill these days. Besides, it’ll get lover boy off your mind and Jesse off your back.”

Gabe drains the rest of his coffee, mulling over her words though he already knows that he’s going to say yes. It’ll be a good way to get the fuck out of his head. 

“I didn’t know you were in a band,” he says, crumpling up the paper cup. Sombra shrugs, switching hands. 

“I’m not. But I’m a DJ, which is much better pay than being some tech-hotline bitch.” 

Can’t really deny that, can he? So he asks,

“Where is this gig of yours?”

~*~*~*~

To be fair, he had never heard of this place before, this Los Muertos. It sounded sketchy as hell, and it was, but it wasn’t the rundown joint that he thought it was going to be. 

Admission is a bit overpriced, but the atmosphere is almost pleasant and the floor is devoid of urine so he figures that he can waste a few hours here. The majority of the crowd was wearing all black like him, but everyone else was wearing glow in the dark face paint. Makes him wonder a few things but he gives no voice to his questions. 

He pulls his hood up a little lower, blending into the shadows like he’s meant to do. He stays close to the wall, flask in his back pocket because there’s no way he’s crossing that crowd to get to the bar. 

The music pounding through the shot speakers was some techno song, something he couldn’t quite make out. Not his style, not his scene. 

To be honest, he didn’t really know why he came. Sure, what Sombra offered earlier sounded great, but it wasn’t enough to entice him, not really. He was beginning to regret not going to the other bar. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he geared himself up to punch some motherfucker in the face, until he heard the soft French accent in his ear. 

“Come with me,” she purred, curling a hand around his wrist and dragging him towards the back and up the stairs. 

The bouncer guarding the floor up top just gave them a once over, nodding slightly before pulling back the chain and letting them through. 

Amélie gave him a slight nod back and pulled Gabe behind her. 

It was just as loud upstairs as it was down, but the crowd was much thinner here and he could breathe a little easier. He gets dragged to a table near the front, right by the railing, where her husband was waiting with Sombra. Who was definitely drunk. 

Alright. 

Beginning to feel a little played, he takes his seat by Gérard, sharing a nod of understanding, as he steals the rest of Sombra’s margarita. She doesn’t even notice, continuing her story with heavily slurred speech. He’s about two hours late, so he’s not surprised to realize that he missed her set. 

That was fine, she tells him with drunk honesty, she wasn’t actually expecting him to come. 

Which, okay, that burns a little. But what did he expect? He’s built this reputation for himself, especially since he didn’t meet Sombra until after the breakup, and well, you reap what you sow. 

As an “apology”, he plays along with the conversation, sipping his whiskey neat as Sombra regales them with ridiculous after ridiculous story. He laughs at all the right times and nobody side-eyes him with suspicion. 

Amélie tells them about the performance that she was just in, how it was an utter shitshow since the other ladies had no fucking clue what they were doing. She’s on her fifth glass of wine, and somehow she’s doing better than Sombra, who’s on her third beer after her second margarita. Gérard is at least on his side, though he’s partaking in a glass of Crown Royal, something Gabe would’ve never guessed the other man enjoyed. 

The conversation was a blur since the beginning and he couldn’t even begin to say what the hell it was that they were talking about. It dies down after a little while as they each partake in their own respective silences. Amélie and Gérard were snuggling (as much as they do, which just means they are sitting a little closer to each other than normal) and Sombra’s passed out with her head on her arms, snoring lightly. 

Gabe moves her half-empty drink away from her, and places his jacket over her shoulders. He has no idea as to how she can sleep through the noise, but he’s learned to not question her. It tends to leave him with a headache and more questions than answers. 

He finishes his fourth whiskey and signals for another, turning away to look down at the dance floor below. The crowd was beginning to thin but still going strong. It’s a strange contradiction, but he lets it go. 

His head is beginning to swim with the liquor. He’s not drunk, not really, but when he stands up he will be. 

A sense of peace settles over him as the song changes from some high-energy dubstep song that more noise than music to something a little softer, like they were trying to mellow the crowd. 

He blinked as he recognizes the voice. He had no idea that Angela could sing like that. Actually, scratch that, he had no idea that she could sing. 

_I know as the night goes on, you might end up with someone_  
_So why do I bite my tongue?_  
_Oh, I wanna know ya_  
_I'm lookin' around the room, is one of those strangers you?_  
_And do you notice me too?_  
_Oh, I wanna know ya_

_You’re a face I won't forget_  
_(I want ya) don't know how much time is left_  
_(I want ya) haven't had a moment yet_  
_Ooh_

_Oh, dance with me, it won't kill ya_  
_And one for the road_  
_Dance with me, it won't kill ya_  
_And one before you go_  
_Dance with me, it won't kill ya_  
_And one for the road_  
_So why won't you stay a little longer?_

Shit, okay. He might actually really be drunk. Because this stupid fucking song is reminding him of Jack. That’s not at all what he wanted. 

Why can’t he just fucking admit that he wants Jack back? 

(Because it means that he has to swallow his pride, and swallowing his pride is not something that Gabe does. For fuck’s sake, he still hasn’t apologized to Jesse. Still hasn’t apologized to Ana or Reinhardt. Why is he fucking like this? What is so goddamn hard about saying sorry?)

He shuts his eyes, and leans his head back against the wall, pretending for all he’s worth that this song isn’t affecting him the way he thinks it is. It’s just the alcohol. Nothing else. (Maybe if he keeps lying to himself, someday he’ll even be able to believe it.)

It finally ends, and he holds back the sigh of relief. He blinks away the blurriness of his eyes and checks his phone, ignoring the texts and notifications. It’s only a little after midnight. He’s got time. 

Amélie eventually abandons them to take a turn around the dancefloor, leaving Gabe and Gérard to discuss music theory. It’s as boring as it sounds, but it’s the only common ground that they can find that doesn’t cross too many lines. 

Gérard, after some time, tells him that he and Amélie were going to go on tour again, as she’s going to be Odette in her company’s production of Swan Lake. 

He doesn’t mean it, not completely, but he tells Gérard to let him know when they’re going to be in New York and he’ll try to make it. The Frenchman is nice enough to not point out that Gabe said that last time, and then went on tour without a word to them that he wasn’t going to be able to make it. 

(He has no idea if Amélie ever forgave him for that. Probably not. One more person that he’s not going to apologize to.)

The hour hand finally hits two o’clock and they head out, sober enough to get home without serious incident. Gabe carries Sombra down the stairs and set her in the back seat of Gérard’s car, declining a ride back to the hotel and saying goodbye to his friends. He makes some half-hearted promise to get together with them again before they leave LA to go home to Paris. They’re kind enough to pretend that it isn’t a complete lie. 

He waves them off and starts the long walk home. 

There’s still enough booze in his system that he’s more down than he is sober, but he can walk a straight enough line. It takes him a minute to realize that Sombra still had his jacket and his hoodie wasn’t quite enough for the cool night. He shrugs it off and continues. It isn’t worth the effort is requires to worry.

Nobody fucks with him at all on his walk, which is good, and he makes it back fairly quickly, despite the detour he took to get a taco for the road. What? He was drunk and they sounded good. 

There’s a note taped to his door that he pulls down without reading. He strips out of his clothes as soon as the door is locked and heads into the shower, washing away a drunk man’s regrets. He pretends the burning in his eyes is from the steam. He pretends that it doesn’t feel like his heart is breaking in his chest. 

He dries off and flops onto his bed, pulling out his phone. He opens the Spotify app and finds Jack’s song, playing it. He keeps the volume low. 

And if he cries while listening to it, well, it’s not like there’s anyone there to call him on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela's song:  
> [It Won't Kill Ya by The Chainsmokers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxljKS5rc7w)
> 
> Spanish (if it needs to be fixed let me know):  
>  _homes:_ bro  
>  _hombre:_ man  
>  _amigo:_ male friend  
>  _No seas tan perra:_ don't be such a bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Jack's song:  
> ['Ahead of Myself' by X Ambassadors](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-Jsc8TmcAU)
> 
> Fareeha's song:  
> ['Bad Romance' by Halestorm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vmhnxVF1GU)


End file.
